


thursday

by astraielle, ghoulaesthetics (astraielle)



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon, lacroix has just settled in the city and no one is happy but he only gets mentioned, pre bloodlines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraielle/pseuds/astraielle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraielle/pseuds/ghoulaesthetics
Summary: She laughed, smooth and airy, and it made Nines bristle. Doubly so when she laid a hand across his knee. He didn’t make any efforts to remove it.“Oh, now that was dangerously close to a compliment.” The smile stayed hovering on her mouth, but it failed to reach her eyes, which were still hard. “I said I knew how to handle men like him. I meant on a personal level. I hate to be the one to tell you, but a few cutting remarks on my end won’t make him leave the city. I’m more than secure in my abilities, but I’m pragmatic more than anything else.”“You’re a fucking coward is what you are,” he grit. “You’ll walk in here just to stir something up with the other Anarchs--not enough to actually mean anything, but enough to leave an impression--you’ll steal priceless art pieces in plain sight for the highest bidder, you’ll do all of this and more without a second thought because it’s going to benefit you. But you’re going to sit here and ignore all the ways that playing this game with the Camarilla is going to screw you over in the end?”
Relationships: Nines Rodriguez/Original Character(s), Nines Rodriguez/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	thursday

**Author's Note:**

> dialogue prompt -- “ you’re such a fucking coward. ” 
> 
> pre-bloodlines by a year. lacroix has freshly settled into LA and it's bringing some tension with it. cat is obviously Not the fledgeling lmao. she's a little under a century old and has had an on/off thing with nines for most of that duration. this is, clearly, during one of the 'off' times.

_L.A., 2003_

\--

“I’m surprised you would decide to show up here. I was under the impression this pace would be too offensive to your refined palette.” 

For once, The Last Round was surprisingly vacant. Katerina Irakleidis (known as _Cat_ to the ever-small group of Kindred she considered friends) had been quietly relieved. She found her work enjoyable, naturally--she wouldn’t be doing it otherwise--but that didn’t mean she didn’t still crave space to metaphorically breathe between jobs. 

“You would think,” she replied without turning around on her barstool. “But I’ve always been able to relax in any place that I find comfortable, questionable decor notwithstanding. And your seats are very comfortable, by the way.” 

She took a shallow sip from her glass, the blood barely staining her tongue. Bagged blood was rarely to her taste, but she had been in luck. The ‘donor’ had been a perfect match to her strict preferences. 

“If you’re going to kick me out, Rodriguez,” she said, peering out at him from the corner of her eye, “at least let me finish my drink. It’s paid for, and you know I like to tip well, so I’m sure the bartender would also appreciate it.” 

Nines scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned on the bar. The aforementioned bartender was most likely taking a break, seeing as there was no one else aside from the two of them in the establishment. 

“I’m not gonna do that. It’s a free city. You can go where you want.” 

“Because you like me so much?” She flashed a small grin, placing the glass down and running a well-manicured fingertip around the rim. 

“Because it defeats the purpose of an Anarch State,” he replied frankly, refusing to rise to her bait. “And I know you well enough to know that even if I did, you wouldn’t listen anyway.” 

That prompted a small chuckle. “Mm. I don’t even think my stubbornness is even a side effect of the embrace. It’s an absolute state of being.” 

“Don’t get too smug on me for that one. It wasn’t a compliment.” 

Nines considered whether or not he should just give up and cut the conversation short. Almost eighty years of history with the Ventrue told him that if she wasn’t in the mood to listen to whatever he had to say, he might as well save himself the frustration and just leave. 

On the other hand, there was a reason that he’d never gone out of his way to cut things off with her before. With a resigned sigh, he took up residence on the stool beside her. 

He caught the pleased look cross her face and almost regretted it.

“It’s as close as I think you’re capable of, so I’ll take it as such,” she shrugged, taking another sip. She intended to nurse that drink as long as she possibly could. 

He shot her a dubious glance. “You and I both know that’s not true. Even if I still say it was a lapse in judgement.” 

Another shrug. “The first time, perhaps. The fifth, tenth, twentieth, well... you can’t blame me for reading too much into elementary-level insults.” 

“If I wanted to proposition you, I would.” There was no heat to his words. He sounded worn, even to himself. It was true, though. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and his lack of patience usually won out over any desire to set the mood.

“I know.” Cat’s answering smile was placid and enigmatic as she once again set her glass down. The blood was thicker than a red wine would’ve been, lingering on the sides of the clear vessel as it moved. She’d been a little surprised they even had anything resembling a wineglass behind the counter, to be honest. 

She inched microscopically closer to him, balancing her chin atop laced fingers as she used the counter to prop her elbows up. 

“So why are you joining me? Aside from the fact that you practically own this Elysium, of course. But there are plenty of other chairs much farther away from me if you really wanted to sit.” 

“I won’t tell you to leave,” he reestablished as he used his forearms to match her own position. “But I will tell you that it’s probably not a great idea for you to be here right now. Or in the near future.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why ever would that be the case, Mr. Rodriguez? You said it yourself. This is an Anarch State. I can go where I please, and right now, it’s this stool in this bar. Or can I?” 

And there it was. The flicker of a challenge in her eye that he’d become familiar with over the years. A microexpression he’d picked up on when there was serious potential for a conversational misstep. 

“You tell me,” he narrowed his eyes back at her, fixing her with a look. She refused to give him the satisfaction of any sort of reaction, but he knew she was aware of the intent. “Might have something to do with that Camarilla-backed cash in your bag.” 

“You know I’m an independent,” she said cooly, feigning ignorance. The unnecessary batting of the eyelashes was what got under his skin more than that.

“Playing dumb is a bad look on you,” he said lowly, sharp notes of irritation beginning to punctuate syllables. 

“Am I supposed to apologize for conducting business?” She asked--snapped, almost--straightening up, as if she didn’t want to play the game she had begun to initiate. “Because the last time I checked, agreeing to steal a museum piece or two for someone willing to pay my premiums doesn’t put me in bed with the Camarilla.”

“No more than it does with us,” he spat back. 

“That’s the entire point. It’s self-preservation, and, in my opinion, the only safe way to actually plan on surviving the night indefinitely.” 

“ _Bullshit_ ,” he laughed harshly, voice mingling with the sounds of the bass and drums playing in the background. 

Cat could feel herself starting to grind her teeth. Ventrue and Brujah stereotypically did not seem to get along in the slightest. Of course, much like any other interaction, the nuances in relationships observed between the two clans were highly dependent on the individuals involved. She found it amusing how alike they could be at times. Somewhere along the like, the Ventrue had developed a reputation for fighting their battles from boardrooms while the Brujah kept it a little more personal. But the innate need to rise to a challenge and defend your pride ran strong on both sides of the coin. 

“You’re allowed to think that if it helps you sleep better during the day. I know why I operate the way I do.”

“Which is great for you, but it won’t be worth anything to anyone else.” 

“If you’re worried about me, take it elsewhere. I’m confident in my risk assessment skills.”

“I’m not,” he said, the sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before meeting her eyes once more. “But the last thing I want is to do is to be the one scraping your ashes off the floor when you step on some toes.”

“My manners are impeccable, I have no idea what you mean,” she scowled. 

He cast a dry glance her way. “One--no they aren’t. You have your moments, but don’t look me in the eye and say you don’t enjoy pissing people off for fun, because it’ll be a lie. Two--I’m not even going to entertain the oblivious act. Yeah, you’re not barred from the establishment or anything, but no one else is rolling out the welcome mat either.”

“Get to the point, Nines,” she finally said with no small amount of impatience. “I’m a big girl. I promise I can take it.” 

A beat. 

“You’ve been spotted one too many times with that asshole trying to play Prince for comfort. People are talking. It’s not going to take much more for it to go south from there.” 

She made a noise in the back of her throat as she considered it. 

“So,” she said, each word deliberate. “You’re telling me, that because I refuse to discriminate clientele on the basis of affiliation alone so long as they can make the payments and the request isn’t completely morally repulsive, that threats have been made--presumably by people _you_ know, if the context clues are correct--towards my physical wellbeing. Because I’m somehow different than any other unaffiliated Kindred who takes service contracts.” 

“You are!” Realizing he had raised the volume of his voice unintentionally, he brought it back down to a normal speaking level. “You- _-look_. You have one foot in and one out of just about everything but the Sabbat at this point. And I don’t disagree with the principle either. But you play it too close to people that wouldn’t think twice about cutting you down if it suited their needs or if they needed a scapegoat.”

“But you’re different,” she challenged, invading his space. “You’re doing the noble thing and informing me of all of this.” 

Nines refused to back up and let her win the staredown. “It’s a favour, Katerina. I know you’re conditioned to accept those in the form of ass-kissing only, but try to step out of that for a second and listen.” 

Cat bared her teeth but she, too, held her ground. The space between them felt alive with tension and electricity. She was certain that he could smell the blood on her lips from here. 

“Then perhaps you should be trying to listen with me too--I am not allying with the Camarilla. LaCroix may have given himself the title of Prince, but believe me, he’s not going to last. I find every last inch of him grating at the best of times, and the only thing that’s kept me from taking it a step further is pure professionalism. I know his type. I know how to manipulate them properly.” 

“So convince him to _leave_ ,” he shot back. “You’re not allied anywhere--fine. But you just admitted you know he’s not going to be able to do you any favours in the long run. You’re good at talking big. Put some of that confidence to use for the rest of us for once.” 

She laughed, smooth and airy, and it made Nines bristle. Doubly so when she laid a hand across his knee. He didn’t make any efforts to remove it. 

“Oh, now that _was_ dangerously close to a compliment.” The smile stayed hovering on her mouth, but it failed to reach her eyes, which were still hard. “I said I knew how to handle men like him. I meant on a personal level. I hate to be the one to tell you, but a few cutting remarks on my end won’t make him leave the city. I’m more than secure in my abilities, but I’m pragmatic more than anything else.” 

“You’re a fucking _coward_ is what you are,” he grit. “You’ll walk in here just to stir something up with the other Anarchs--not enough to actually mean anything, but enough to leave an impression--you’ll steal priceless art pieces in plain sight for the highest bidder, you’ll do all of this and more without a second thought because it’s going to benefit _you_. But you’re going to sit here and ignore all the ways that playing this game with the Camarilla is going to screw you over in the end?”

The hand on his leg tightened its grip painfully. “If you want to make this personal, I can do that. Believe me, I am _well_ fucking capable of taking this to the level you seem to be trying so hard to right now.” 

He’d touched a nerve, and he knew it. Cat was, objectively, a coward, and she knew it. She could claim self-interest all she wanted, but when the layers were removed, her actions stemmed from fear. 

“ _Language_ ,” he commented sardonically with a smirk. “I know you can. Somehow I don’t think you really want to, though. Could just be my imagination. Who knows.” 

She was a Blue Blood; she treasured the ability to keep her composure. Coming out with a ‘fuck’ mid-sentence was a definite sign that it was unravelling. Had he been anyone else, the targeted attack would’ve warranted a punishment. Instead, he got the pleasure of watching the frustration silently rise under the surface and ruminate, which was about as close as she would get to admitting he was correct. 

Another reason she rarely let people get that close. Her motivations were startlingly obvious if you knew what to look for. 

They held each other’s gaze for an unknown amount of seconds. It was broken by the sounds of a group of Anarchs entering through the front door downstairs. 

Cat relaxed her grip on his leg. No doubt her manicured nails left some damage behind. She only felt slightly guilty about it--under other circumstances, it was the sort of thing Nines enjoyed anyway. 

She was the first to draw back, turning her attention to her glass once more. 

“I’d like to help, honestly,” she admitted quietly, lacking the usual rolling tones to her words. “I can’t, though. I can’t do anything from my position now, and the idea of throwing my lot in definitively with anyone is...” She trailed off, sparing him a hopeless glance in a rare showing of muted vulnerability. 

“I know. I can’t speak for anywhere else, but you do know that if you decided to stay here, you’d have people who had your back. Right?” 

“Would I?” She laughed humourlessly. “Somehow I suspect that even if I’d walked in at my absolute sweetest every time I showed my face I’d still find my way at the bottom of the unofficial hierarchy.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, and she shot him a tired look. “I think people could warm up to you eventually. You’d have to drop most of the side commentary though, if you can manage that--” 

“Just for that, I won’t.” she cut in, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly.

“--but like I was saying,” he continued, emphasizing the cut-off point, “not impossible. Sometimes you’ll cut the prickly act for a few minutes and you end up coming off as a decent person. It’s refreshing.” 

“Now that actually _was_ sweet,” she laughed. “Should I thank you properly for that one?” It was suggestive, reminiscent of the mood the conversation began on. He sensed it was one part deflection and one part genuine desire.

“Don’t make it weird,” he said, and she laughed again. 

“Fine, fine, we’ll pretend it’s a new recruitment strategy and leave it at that. Pleased?” 

“On that front,” he acquiesced. 

Things went quiet for a moment. Cat took the silence as a sign to finish off the rest of her glass, tongue darting out to catch an errant drop on her bottom lip. 

“I won’t promise anything,” she finally said, “but I’ll consider what you said. And I mean that, by the way. But I need you to know that despite appearance, I’m acutely aware of my social surroundings at all times. I have one of those particular personalities--it’s either enchanting, or it inspires homicidal thoughts. Sometimes both,” she added, looking at Nines directly. It gave him a small chuckle. 

“You’re a pain in the ass, no doubt, but believe me, no one here wants to see you get burned just because of that.”

“How thoughtful,” she smiled, gracefully rising from her seat just as the small crowd from downstairs began to sound like it was planning on joining them soon. “As for me, I should probably get going. It’s a long drive back to my Haven, and I don’t want to keep you from the rest of your night.” 

Nines raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly. It absolutely was not a long drive back to her place, and he would know. 

“You sure that’s the only reason why?” He asked. 

Her answering glare was enough to stop the line of gentle prodding. She’d had enough of that for the night. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. 

“I’m certain.” She reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and produced several twenty-dollar bills--far more than the drink cost. “Tell him to keep the change, if he ever gets back from his smoke.” 

She turned to face Nines again, hesitating before she took her leave. He waited for her to fill the silence, knowing that look meant she was struggling to get the words past her tongue. 

“I said I would think about it,” she reiterated slowly, and he nodded silently. “I won’t say what will come of it, but it’ll be on my mind. I can tell you what I see during the business meetings, though I don't know how much use you'll get out of that. If you hear any of those--let’s call them rumours, for brevity’s sake--again, you can confidently assure them that my loyalty can’t be bought.” 

“Clearly,” he snorted. 

“A frustrating comfort for you, no doubt,” she said solemnly. “I’m many things, Nines, but that’s never been the sort of game I’ve wanted to play. I’m not fond of the fact that it’s the impression I’ve apparently given off either.” 

“But you’re not going to do anything to repair that.” He finished the silent end to the statement without judgement. 

There was a brief pause where it looked like they might go a bit further in on that one, but she pulled it back at the last second. “Of course. I have a reputation to maintain as the _Pain In The Ass_ of The Last Round, don’t I?” She quipped. “I believe that’s what you said.”

“Something like that.” It was worth a smile, but it wasn’t a happy one. 

“I’ll take it. Titles are something of a weakness for us,” she chuckled. 

“Okay, that one actually _was_ a bit funny. Nice.” 

“I try.” Another soft laugh. 

Footsteps had begun their loud ascent up the stairs. Before the room could be disturbed, she ducked her head towards where Nines sat and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

Her lips were soft against the stubble there, and she smelled wonderful. Before anyone saw, she pulled back, looking almost mournful. 

“It’s a shame we never end up speaking over more pleasant things.” 

“We could,” he offered. “Stranger things have happened.”

She smiled a sorrowful smile. “That they have. I’ll be seeing you,” she finally said with an incline of her head. 

“Don’t be a stranger.” 

She nodded.

It was the best they could do. 

He didn’t turn around when he heard her greet Damsel and Skelter, her flawless persona back in place. There would be the usual questions and eye-rolling from them once she was gone. Skelter didn’t seem too invested in her existence, but Damsel certainly didn’t mind making her opinions known. It never got overly hostile, and it occasionally good to get an outside perspective. 

She’d left a lipstick print behind on his face as a parting gift. He had time to wipe it off if he wanted before anyone saw. 

Somehow, he couldn’t quite will his hands to complete the action. 

He could live with it. 

He could. 


End file.
